Logic in Living
by GoWashTheLights
Summary: A series of short Spirk drabbles, taking place in varying settings. Spoilers for Into Darkness.
1. Chapter 1

**Author Note:** I wrote these from special requests, which I was happy to fill! I was a bit nervous writing from Spock's perspective, but I feel like I accomplished it a little :) Thank you for reading!

**DISCLAIMER:** I don't own Star Trek, its characters, etc.

_Prompt: "There's a reason I said I'd be happy alone" speech, Grey's Anatomy_

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><p>When I rushed down to Engineering, I found Mr. Scott, simply standing alone. Neither of us spoke, though his expression was one I understood. Helplessness. I made my way over to the door of the engine's core, and found the Captain sitting slumped against the glass. I believe I commanded Mr. Scott to open it, but I could hardly think straight.<p>

"The decontamination process is not complete; you'd flood the whole compartment. The door's locked, sir," Mr. Scott added in desperation, as if I did not understand. I did, however, and crouched down so as to be at near-eye level with Jim. My Jim.

To say he was in pain was not a phrase enough adequate to describe the sight before me. Jim's face was reddened, burned with his eyes red at the corners. I could hardly surmise what he must be feeling internally as I watched him close off the tunnel behind him. He finally looked up at me and asked, after some effort, how the ship was.

It suddenly became difficult to breathe. I grasped for oxygen in the small space as I calmly explained that, logically, the ship wasn't in harm. She was still, as still as the air in this room. It was painful, even, and I could not deny that. In an attempt to overcome it, I praised the Captain for his actions. Focused on him, instead of myself. Jim had just been thinking of others, as he always did. Now was no different as he, in turn, complimented my own actions. "That was a nice move," he spoke low, impressed as his blue eyes nearly closed. _ Not yet, Jim. _"This...this is what you would've done. It was only logical."

Pain, again, prickling in my eyes. I listened as Jim confessed his fears, as he asked my counsel in how to disconnect from that emotion. I, not only as a Vulcan, but as his first officer, should have that answer. It was my obligation to provide that to Jim, no matter what the situation. As I tried once again to keep my emotions in check, I shook my head. "I do not know. Right now, I am failing."

Though he looked up at me, his face fell. I thought it to be disappointment, but soon a smile crossed his lips. Were he well, I have no doubt that some comment of endearment would escape him. His next words reminded me in an instant of a previous conversation, one we'd had before this entire ordeal had begun. He was insistent on helping me understand why he had saved me from the Volcano. At the time, I had not, and we hadn't the time to discuss it more extensively. Now I did, and without hesitation I answered for him. "Because you are my friend." I felt brief humiliation as a tear finally slipped down my cheek.

In honesty, we were more than that. Our relationship had turned more personal in the last year, naturally shifting into what one would define as romance. We both knew it lay deeper than just that; it was still a challenge for me, in some aspects. As he pressed his trembling hand to the glass, I realized it would be too late to fix that. Jim's time was spent in this world. I pressed the tips of my fingers to the glass, forming the Vulcan signature for greetings...and farewells.

Then I let him die.

It was the only logical thing to do, to accept his passing. There had been no time to prepare, to react properly or move on - it simply happened. Many of the minor details slipped my mind at that moment, because what rushed through me was not logic. It was blind, primal rage, and the only way to set it free was to scream. Not logic, yet still made sense. It consumed me after that, in search for vengeance of Jim's death.

Taking Khan's life was the next thought that made sense. We fought with earth as our battleground, without a thought to anyone else. As long as one of us perished, all we'd worked for held worth. For myself, even coming to grips with Jim's death would happen. As long as Khan paid accordingly for his crimes.

I remember thinking the lack of empathy coming from this monster. Jim had given him a chance, hadn't taken his life even when he was tempted to do so. When Pike had died, all Jim felt was revenge - what I was feeling now - the difference was that Jim was stronger than I. He had the ability to give someone forgiveness, because that was simply Jim's nature. Human error, perhaps, but admirable. Jim had done everything to save my life, though it had cost him his. The least I could do was try to repay the debt.

The voice of reason came in the form of Nyota. Pure, simple and loving, she granted me words that not only saved one life, but two. Those and my quickly fading sanity, as she explained that the enemy was the only way to save Jim. Somehow I let myself accept it, let the rage ebb and focus into one final strike. Then it was over.

We were all transported back to the ship, where Doctor McCoy began to dispel my skepticism against miracles. Jim was revived, but because of the procedure, he remained comatose for the next two weeks. For fourteen days I sat at his side, waiting patiently for him to open his eyes. He was alive, at least, his vitals stable and causing no reason for concern.

There were moments, when the medical staff had dispersed and we were each other's only company, when I felt old fears return. Pain from a temporary loss that had leveled my emotional being, my human half to a point of near destruction. I realized that had Jim remained dead, I was uncertain of my ability to live without him. No matter where I would find myself located in this vast universe, if Jim were not alive, I would not consider it fair for me to do so.

The immense relief I felt when Jim finally woke was indescribable. He seemed understandably disoriented, and I nearly strode forward to comfort his confusion. Doctor McCoy hovered over him, the "mother hen", as Jim had so often called him. They spoke quietly, but I picked up each word of their conversation. The doctor simply stated that he hadn't been the one to subdue Khan, and my feet carried me forward on instinct.

I observed Jim carefully. Asleep, he still looked frail and brittle, his body having literally retired and brought back. Awake, I could see the life returned in his blue orbs, the soft smile on his lips. "You saved my life," were his first words to me. After a slight interjection from Doctor McCoy of his and Nyota's contribution, and a glance of acknowledgement from the Captain, I found the ability to speak once more.

"You saved my life, Captain, and the lives of - " I began formally. I did not know how else to approach him.

"Spock, just..." He replied in frustration. His eyes closed and I silently wished them to open; though, I knew he must be exhausted. "Thank you," he finally stated.

I paused for a moment, my face softening. "You are welcome, Jim." My voice sounded strange to me. It must have sounded that way to Doctor McCoy as well, because he straightened up and muttered about Jim's charts needing to be filled out. Our CMO left, and Jim and I were alone again. I stood in the same spot, even after Jim had patted the spot next to him.

"Spock. Sit with me, please," Jim whispered.

I acquiesced, and as I settled down beside him, he wrapped his arms around my waist. He pulled me closer, until our faces were inches apart. "Jim..."

"That's better." He rested one hand against the side of my face, and used what little strength he must have had to seal our lips together. It was a chaste kiss, yet one of the most intimate we'd shared. Relief to see one another, to live another day and rely on each other, as we'd been learning to do.


	2. Chapter 2

_Prompt: Rihanna's "We Found Love" opening words._

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><p>I watch from afar as Doctor McCoy eases Jim into his wheelchair. I pick up their conversation with ease; the doctor congratulates Jim on his progress, and Jim thanks him. The Captain pats Doctor McCoy's shoulders, then wheels himself over to me. "Hello, Spock."<p>

"Jim," I say softly. "You did well."

"I'm getting there. Bones said I should be on my feet in a few days."

We go back to his room, where he allows me to help him into bed.

The first few days, he could not even permit me to, while he struggled on his own until he'd pulled himself onto the mattress. Now he trusted me more easily, and he did not mind my assistance so much. I sat with him now, let his hand grip my arm as he lay there. He was lost in thought, his blue eyes to the ceiling.

"You are in pain," I murmur.

After a moment, he pats my arm. "It's okay, Spock."

His honesty strikes me. "Shall I call someone to - "

He waves a tired hand. "No. Thanks, I just want you here."

I don't leave until I'm certain he is asleep. It troubles me to do so, because I know what happens while he dreams. The dreams turn to nightmares, and Jim faces them alone. The only reason I have this knowledge is because of Doctor McCoy; Jim told him in confidence, and in confidence the doctor informed me. I have not yet found the confidence to tell anyone else.

Jim has his good and bad days, as the week comes to an end. He is plagued by horrific visions, of which he will not discuss with me. I attempt to console him, but he refuses.

Until one evening, his internal dam breaks. "Spock," he whispers in a quavering voice. "I'm...I wish I hadn't been brought back."

The words sting more than mildly. "Tell me your reason for saying this Jim."

He doesn't meet my gaze. In the fading sunlight surrounding us, I see tears in his eyes. "I can't do this. I'm not capable of..." His voice breaks.

I shift closer, wishing to hold him. "T'hy'la."

He gives a short sob, and his face contorts with emotion. "Spock, how come you cared so much?" Why did you fight so hard for my life?"

I shift, recognizing guilt. "You did not wish to be saved?"

"It's not that."

"Please, tell me, then."

His chest seizes in another poorly contained sob. "It all hurts so much. Going through life alone, then finding someone in the same situation. Then knowing you're leaving them behind to suffer, and having to accept it. It hurts more than I ever thought, Spock."

I try to tell him I understand, because I do, but the words will not form. We are both in pain and cannot do anything about it. For the longest time, I search my mind for the answer. Logically, there has to be one, an absolute, it's all that is needed.

Finally, something comes to me. "Jim," I say, and wait until he is focused on me. "We began our relationship in hatred. Any chance to hard the other, we took it. However, more good has come of our time together than bad. That is why I fought..." I falter, my voice catching uncomfortably. "Why I fought for you to love again. So that we may experience the good and bad, and grow from it. You are the most important to me, Jim." After a moment, I add, "You did save my life in the first place."

Jim barks an emotional laugh, and he wiped at his eyes. "I'd do it every time again, too. You're the most important to me, too. I'm just..." He sighs.

"What? You are what?" I feel desperation growing, anything to keep him away from the edge.

"I thought I was done for, and the next thing I know, I'm alive. It's like, all the times I messed up, I got another chance. I didn't think I deserved it, though," he admits. "I couldn't believe someone cared enough to think I needed to stick around."

My mind is racing at this point, highly inconvenient and sudden. I take a quiet breath, and move to sit on the bed. I wrap one arm over his waist, and lean in for a kiss. Perhaps human error, on my non-Vulcan half, but it causes the desired reaction. Jim kisses back, and as our lips fall away from each other, our foreheads touch. "I will be at your side," I promise. "Do not give in to hopelessness. It is the worst road one could take."

He smiles tenderly. "What would I do without you?"

My brow quirks, and I straighten up. "After what we have talked about, I find that joke to be in poor taste. I do not wish to think of you without me, nor I without - "

"Spooock," he groans, and flops back against his pillow in aggravation. Then he grins at me. "Never mind."


End file.
